deja vu
by kyleisgod
Summary: A story for lovers and haters of Stan x Kyle fan fiction.


Author's note: I wanted to poke fun at some S/K cliches. I've read far too many stories about them that were all the same. This oneshot is more like a "Can you spot all the cliches?" game than anything else and isn't meant to be taken seriously. This story isn't quite The Slash Club, but I like it enough for what it is and hope you all do too. Please know that I'm not trying to make fun of any one author's story, nor am I discouraging the writing of Stan and Kyle even in a way that has been done before. Creating truly original work isn't easy and I respect every author on this site for trying.

Anyway, parody is a little out of my comfort zone as a writer, so I'm anxious to see what you all think. Read, review, and hopefully laugh!

It was a weekly tradition simultaneously loved and hated by both of its participants. Every weekend Stan and Kyle took turns playing video games into the wee hours of the night at one another's houses. The boys cherished their time together, but they hated the temptation that literally stared them in the face once a week like clockwork.

...

Kyle and Stan played together so frequently that some people even believed video games were their only interest. Not music, porn, sports, television or anything else. No, only video games. -Always- video games. Although gaming ranked high on both their lists of priorities, the notion that it was all they cared about was ridiculous. Stan and Kyle -did- have other interests, and there was at least one thing they both definitely liked more than video games.

Each other.

Tragically, they could never speak their forbidden love out loud. No sir. Not ever under any circumstances for any reason whatsoever including but not limited to torture. The damage would be irreversable. The consequences were too great. Stan and Kyle were super best friends. They couldn't bare to ruin that relationship by coming out to each other. Or by blabbing the shared secret to a mutual friend who might inform the other one. It was decided long ago by Stan and Kyle that only their respective diaries would ever know their deep, dark secrets.

Yes, coincidentally they each kept diaries that contained their feelings about one another. Not journals. Not even public internet journals. Just diaries where they entered their private thoughts and probably giggled mischeviously while doing so.

The temptation only got worse when the video games were finally turned off.

Kyle and Stan would play until their eyes were strained, then the visiting boy would always sleep over the other's house. Always in the other's bed. Always with the other boy right beside him, both always only wearing boxer shorts to sleep. This was apparently perfectly normal behavior for eighteen year old heterosexuals, because no one seemed to make a fuss about it. Regardless of that fact, this was the reason for the mixed feelings concerning the weekly gatherings.

Kyle was sleeping over at Stan's this particular night, but neither boy could truly sleep. Their hormones were in overdrive, forcing them to blush with embarrassment.

So naturally, they did what anyone in their situation would do. They abandoned their vow to never, ever tell the other their feelings and kissed each other in a quick, and immediately regretted, moment of passion.

Then they each got out of bed and ran away from one another, mentally cursing their stupidity. Unfortunately, the routes of escape were blocked. Both Stan's bedroom door and his window were jammed shut. The boys would be forced to actually face one another following a surprising, awkward moment rather than drag it out.

"I-I'm sorry!" Kyle nervously stammered as tears filled his eyes. "Y-you h-hate m-me n-now, d-don't y-you?"

"N-no, I-I'm s-sorry!" Stan insisted, also beginning to cry. "I-I sh-shouldn't have d-done that, a-and y-you h-hate m-me n-now, d-don't y-you?"

"N-no! No I don't! I-I love you!" Kyle blurted out.

"That's g-good. B-because, I-I l-love you t-t-too!" Stan stuttered back.

Their faces blushed again, this time a crimson red color. They both giggled like schoolgirls whose feet were being tickled by feathers. An awkward silence filled the bedroom. They kissed again, this time longer and more passionately. Their tongues began to battle for supremacy. The makeout session eliminated the awkwardness if nothing else. Finally their lips parted.

"Do you wanna have sex?" Stan asked.

Kyle frowned. "I don't know dude. I don't think I'm ready."

"Yeah, me either," Stan said. "I know we're supposed to be boys and wanna get laid, but for some reason I don't think that way."

"You don't think like a boy?"

"No. It's weird."

Kyle blinked. "Well, I guess I'm just as bad. It actually feels kinda good to tell you this stuff. I haven't confessed to anybody. Too embarrassing."

"I know what you mean. The only person I've told about it is my diary."

Kyle giggled. "You have a diary too?"

"YOU have a diary?" Stan parrotted, shocked that he wasn't the only boy who wrote in such a thing. He giggled back at the irony.

"Yeah. I'll show you it next time you come over," Kyle said.

"Cool. You wanna see mine?" Stan asked.

"Sure."

Stan got off the bed and went into another room, presumably to retrieve his diary from whatever top-secret hiding place he stashed it in. Kyle fidgeted on the bed. He was anxious to see what Stan had written about him. When Stan returned, he had the diary.

He also had blood dripping from his wrists.

"What the hell?! Stan what'd you do?!"

"I cut myself!" Stan exclaimed. He started to cry again.

"Why?!"

"Because we can't be together and it makes me sad so I cut myself! Life is pain, Kyle! I just remembered something. What about Wendy?"

Kyle frowned. "Oh yeah, you have a girlfriend. That's another reason we can't do this."

Stan frowned back. "Well, not really I guess. I mean, mostly I'm only with her because if I'm not people will know I'm gay. I know we've been going out since like third grade, but suddenly I don't think I really love her anymore."

"Well being with her because you're afraid of being found out isn't a good reason to stay. I guess I should care about her feelings, and that I'm kinda helping you cheat on her right now, but I don't for some reason. Dump her and we'll be together. And stop cutting yourself dude! That's not cool!" Kyle demanded.

Stan shrugged. "Okay, I'll do all that stuff. For you."

Kyle reached out and comfortingly applied pressure to Stan's wounds, helping the bleeding stop.

"It's just as well I guess. Me and Wendy have been together off and on for ten years now but never had sex. I think she's kinda tired of that."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Ten years together and she expects sex? God, what a slut. And a total bitch."

"Why do you think she's a bitch? What'd she do that was so bitchy?"

"I don't know. I just hate her."

Stan pondered Kyle's words. "Yeah, fuck her! Anyway, here's my diary."

Stan flipped the book open to a page about Kyle. As the Jewiest Jew in South Park read Stan's words, the Jew blushed harder than anything had ever made his Jewish face blush before. The Jew was as red as a sunburned tomato living on mars that was already blushing after it had red paint spilled on its face.

A Jewish sunburned tomato, that is, because Kyle was very, very much a Jew.

Stan's written desires forced a lump to form in Kyle's boxer shorts.

"You wanna do all that stuff to me?" he asked shyly.

"Yeah."

That confirmation was all Kyle needed. They kissed each other again, this time with even more intensity. Despite being virgins, the two boys kissed and touched each other with the talent of a thousand porn stars. Stan pulled back.

"We can't do this," Stan decided. "It's too soon into our new relationship....Isn't it?"

"Maybe we just need mood music," Kyle thought out loud.

"Good idea."

Stan went over to his dresser and turned on the small radio that sat atop it. An Evenasence song came on.

"Ugh, change it," Kyle requested. "I can't see some dumb emo thing as 'our song.' You know?"

Stan nodded in agreement. Did boys even have 'songs' for their relationships, or was that yet another girl thought creeping into their brains? Either way Stan turned to another station, but it was no help. Linkin Park was on. He tried again. Yellocard? No. Coldplay? Nuh-uh. Green Day? Stan sighed. This music was killing his erection rather than aiding it. Song lyrics interrupting passionate moments was lame.

Another interruption would soon follow when Kenny knocked on Stan's bedroom window. The raven-haired male let him inside.

"Hey Kenny. What's up?"

"Guys, I have to talk to you," Kenny said, frowning.

"What is it dude?" Kyle asked, concerned. "Did your drunken father beat you up again?"

"Did you have to whore yourself for the drugs you take again?" Stan guessed.

"Oh. Well, yeah, but that stuff's not what's bothering me," Kenny said.

"Then what?" Stan asked.

"I know I'm supposed to be a whore, but...I think I'm in love."

"With who?" they asked in unison.

"Both of you."

Stan and Kyle looked at one another, then back at Kenny. "Huh?" Kyle responded.

"Yeah. So, either one of you wanna get with me?"

"Um, well you're kinda too late, Kenny. Me and Kyle are together now," Stan announced.

Kenny shrugged. "That's cool. I'll go get with Butters or something."

"Wait! That's it? You're in love and all of a sudden you just step aside and let us be together?" Kyle said.

Kenny shrugged. "Just think of me as the go-between. Whenever you guys need it I'll fuck you on the rebound, get you jealous for each other, or otherwise help you experiment with your homosexual sides. Oh, and give you drugs or sex advice. My job's pretty much to get you two together through me."

"'Kay?" Stan said, somewhat confused.

Kenny left through the window as quickly as he'd come in. Stan turned off the annoying radio, but by the time the music had ceased the boys had yet another interruption to deal with.

Cartman climbed in through the opened window and pushed Kyle down onto the bed. Cartman plopped his large frame down on top of poor, scrawny Kyle.

"Cartman! What the hell?!" the small, weak Kyle said as he squirmed underneath of the fat, stronger boy.

"I'm here to rape you, Kahl," Cartman explained.

"WHAT?!"

"I'm secretly in love with you, but no one can know of my fag-lust. So now I'm going to rape you."

Cartman pulled down his pants and yanked off Kyle's boxer shorts in one fluid motion. He inserted himself into Kyle's virgin asshole.

"Oh god! It hurts!" Kyle whimpered.

"Kyle? Maybe you should, like, fight back or something?" Stan helpfully suggested with his trademark deadpan voice. "You've kicked Cartman's ass plenty of times before. I don't see how he'd suddenly be able to rape you like that."

A lightbulb went on above Kyle's head. Why didn't he think of that? The redhead balled his hand up into a fist and angrily smashed it against Cartman's face. Cartman responded by withdrawing himself from Kyle, hiking up his pants and jumping out the window. He ran for home while literally crying for his mother.

"Thanks" Kyle said as he pulled up his underwear. "So, where were we?"

"We were figuring out how to make it okay to have sex with each other so soon."

"Right. Wait, I've got it! Let's get drunk!"

"Really? You think that'll work?"

"Totally! We'll get wasted, probably not even remember how it happened, and feel all awkward in the morning!"

Stan shrugged. "Okay."

Time skips. Flashforwards. Drunken blackouts. Whatever you wanted to call them, they were nice and effective.

The drunken boys fell back onto Stan's bed, unable to control their desires any more. Stan removed Kyle's boxers and mounted him. Rough, non-lubricated buttsex followed. Stan thrusted into Kyle ten times harder than Cartman the rapist had done just minutes before. That type of thing probably hurt very much, especially since Stan didn't even prepare Kyle's dry virgin ass by first inserting something else such as a finger. Luckily, Kyle could handle it.

"UNGH!" Kyle exclaimed.

"Does it hurt?" Stan asked, concerned.

"Yeah, but now it doesn't. Fuck me!"

Stan did just that until the lovers came in unison. Kyle didn't even mind the lack of attention paid to his sex organ. Stan the virgin was so naturally good at sexing him, and Kyle the virgin so loved being a bottom, that he came anyway. When it was over, the boys decided they had just had the best sex anyone had ever had in the history of the universe.

That night, a new weekly tradition was born. Stan and Kyle retraced their steps the next week, and the one after that, and so on. The video games. The stuttering confessions of love. Even the Cartman rape. Everything from that original night together was repeated over and over again down to the last detail in order to make sure they continued to get the formula just right for a perfect ending to their story. It was copied so much, it pretty much became a cliche.

Perhaps one day they'd break from tradition and try something more original. 


End file.
